Racing Through The Stars
by myshipsaresunk
Summary: Artemis Nyra has grown up and survived on Coruscant her whole life by learning the arts of pick-pocketing. After she's caught stealing from a Senator she's given a choice: she can either go to prison for life or serve as a pilot in the Imperial Military. She takes the latter and becomes the best pilot in the galaxy. But being the best of something always has unwelcome consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All rights belong to Disney, George Lucas, and all the men and women that created the _Star Wars_ movies, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.

 **Rating:** T for violence, disturbing imagery, and dark themes

 **Author's Note:** My second Star Wars fic! If you haven't read my first one, check it out "Through Galaxies Far". If you're coming from that one, then thank you so much for sticking with me. This story is set about a year before Rogue One/A New Hope. The main character is an OC named Artemis Nyra (on suggestion from my most loyal reader, stormrunner74, to whom I give a lot of this story credit. Also happy late birthday!). Artemis is different from Minerva/Nyx is many ways, yet she is still strong and independent. So I hope you enjoy this new story!

 **Chapter 1**

 **Core Worlds Region, Coruscant Subsector, Corusca Sector, Unknown System, 14 BBY**

" _No one will feel threatened by your presence, and once they discover the crime, they definitely won't suspect you," my father explains. Around us, the market is alive, dominated by middle-class consumers and a few upper-class spectators and tourists. The vendors are all hollering at the top of their lungs, shouting their product and their price. The air smells of a dozen different foods and spices. The smallest sliver of sky is visible through the maze of skyscrapers and walkways and air vehicles._

" _What do I do?" I ask, my fingers curled tightly into fists at my sides. I want to please Dad, to make him proud. I want to see his face break into that amazing smile that rivals the sun. I want him to grab me around the waist and twirl me around through the air until I'm laughing so hard it hurts._

 _But for now, I have to focus on the job ahead. The reward will only come if I succeed._

" _Everyone is packed tightly between the stalls and shops, so no one will take mind if you bump into them slightly. But you have to move quickly. Pick an easy target, then move forward, bump into them at the same time you grab it, and then slip it up your sleeve and move away."_

" _How do I know what an easy target is?" This is a lot to remember, but he's been working with me for the past week. I know I can do it._

" _Look for wallets and purses and bags hanging in the open. If you can, judge based on how the people are dressed, but if you have limited options, just go for whatever you can." Father squeezes my shoulder. "You have good instincts. You'll do great."_

 _I can't help chewing on my lip in my nervousness. My hands are shaking, and my palms are getting sweaty, but I need to prove to him that I can do this. "What if I get caught?"_

 _He simply shakes his head. "You won't. Not if you're good. But if you do, run like hell and never look back. Coruscant is a whole planet. If you want to disappear, you can."_

 _Nodding, I square my small shoulders and stare ahead at the market street. I glance back at my father one more time._

" _They won't suspect a thing," he promises. "You don't look poor, and you're still very young. You're the perfect person for this job."_

 _He wouldn't say that unless he truly meant it. Taking solace in this, I smile tightly and then start forward, leaving him behind. I don't have to look back to know he's heading back towards our rendezvous point._

 _Now I'm all on my own, and I'm eager to prove my worth. My eyes scan the crowds, skimming past the different species and different fashions._

 _My eyes fix upon a twi'lek woman with brightly colored clothes under a long leather coat. Her purse is hanging off her shoulder, and even as I watch she slips her hand inside, unzips a small wallet, and pays cash to a fruit vender for a bag of peaches._

 _I merge into the crowd, making my way slowly to the same vender. She's making small talk with the owner, and I pretend to examine the fruit as I step closer, my heart racing inside my chest. When I "accidently" bump into her, my hand flashes out and rifles through her purse, clenching the wallet tightly and slipping it up my sleeve. Less that a second later, I mumble an apology as I step away._

 _She barely spares me a glance, and I continue to skim the rest of what the vender has before merging with the crowd heading up the street._

 _When I duck into a side alley a quarter of a mile away, I finally release a breath of relief and pull out the wallet. My shaking hands struggle to unzip it, and I'm delighted to see a few hundred Imperial Credits. I didn't just do well: I did amazing._

 _I slip the money back in and hide the wallet again before racing to meet my father. There's a skip in my step and a lightness in the air - I succeeded. We have enough money to live for the next couple of weeks, and it's all because of me._

 _Nothing beats the pride I feel now._

* * *

 **Core Worlds Region, Coruscant Subsector, Corusca Sector, Unknown System, 4 BBY***

"Artemis!" The shrill voice of my Abednedo landlord calls. "Artemis! You are two months late on your payment!"

I reluctantly open the door of my apartment to see him standing there, his arms crossed. The ringlets of brown skin hanging from his face jiggle slightly as he shakes his head in disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Novo. I promise I'll get all paid up by the end of the week. I promise." This isn't the first time I've been late with my payments, but it's by far the worst. Novo has been generous so far, but I fear I'm pushing the limits too much this time.

"Two days," he states. "You have two days."

"Two days?" My voice rises up an octave. "Novo, please! I promise I'm trying, but times are hard. If you kick me out, I'll have nothing."

His black eyes are unblinking. "Times are hard for me, too. And I need that money."

"If you give me until the end of the week, I promise I'll pay you back with interest. Just give me a few days extra." I do my best to make my eyes big and begging, but it has no effect. He's unmoving on his deal.

"Two days." He turns to leave, then turns back. "I like you, Artemis. I really do. But I need to pay up to my overseers, and they won't give me extra time."

It's fair, although not ideal. All I can do is nod. "Thank you, Novo. For everything."

He closes the door softly behind him, and it's all I can not to cry right then and there. This apartment has been my home since...since…

Nope. Not going there. The painful memories aren't going to get the best of me. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself and keep the tears away. I can do this. I've been on my own for three years now. This isn't the worst situation I've been in.

Jobs are hard to find in Coruscant, and traveling can be dangerous for young, single girls like myself, so it's been tight. But I know how to get money in a pinch, even if it's sketchy and I feel horrible afterwards.

But what's a few credits to someone else when I'm about to be thrown to the streets?

Okay. How do I get five hundred credits in two days? Obviously I know how, but I have to pick a good location. Money is tight for everyone nowadays, except for the richest, and I don't want to take from someone who is already tight. That leaves the rich elite.

But where can I, a sixteen-year-old girl with no money, inconspicuously run into rich people?

I stand at the grimy window, watching outside at all the people passing by. The pollution has increased exponentially in the past few years, the Emperor's orders for equipment for his army causing the factories to spit out thousands of weapons every week. The toxic air has drifted up from the underworld to infect even the highest levels. Nearly everyone wears masks now.

It's sad what the Empire is doing to this once-beautiful city planet, but I'm not giving up hope. Once the last remains of the Jedi and the rebels are crushed, the Galactic Empire's Army won't need so much equipment and they will be able to focus more inward.

The answer hits me suddenly, and I start to formulate a plan.

* * *

The Capital of the Galactic Empire sits on the foundations of what once was the biggest Jedi temple in the galaxy, and what before that was a Sith temple. It's ironic how things come full circle.

The senators still meet at the Capital, although everyone knows Sheev Palpatine - also known as Darth Sidious - is in control of the Council. He still invites the ambassadors and representatives to plead the cases of their planets.

He's really not as bad as everyone makes him out to be. Sure, I don't follow much politics, but he really stepped forward to unite the Republic after the Trade Federation hostilities and Clone Wars. The Jedi had been becoming corrupt and lazy in the last few years of their existence. It was time for a new government order, and Palpatine was the only one with the ambition and sacrifice to make it happen.

The reason I'm here has nothing to do with politics, though. I just happen to have the foresight to know that senators are the one people group not suffering from the war against the rebels currently, along with weapons manufacturers and bounty hunters, and today the Council is meeting. All I have to do is lie in wait for them to emerge from the Capital and then strike quickly and quietly. They won't even know what happened until later this evening, and by then I'll be long gone from the crime scene.

Not my greatest idea, as it turns out. The minutes drag on into hours, and I'm left waiting in a corner, trying not to look suspicious. Patience has never been a virtue of mine, and I'm left tapping my fingers erratically against my thigh, trying not to fidget too much.

It's long past dark when the doors finally open and the senators and their associates spill out of the former Jedi temple. They head towards their airspeeders, which are parked in neat lines along the opposite side of the building.

I have a narrow window to work with. Slipping out of my hiding spot and weaving in between the richly dressed delegates, I bump my way through, my fingers snapping out to grab wallets and slipping them into the satchel at my side.

Before I had started, I had decided to take five. That way, in case one or two of the ambassadors don't carry money on their person, I at least have a backup.

Four are safely stored in my bag without a hitch, and I continue on to the fifth.

My last target is a middle-aged human senator with graying hair and stiff shoulders. When I bump into him and slip my fingers into his pocket to snatch his wallet, he looks down suspiciously.

"Sorry, sir," I mumble, keeping my eyes down and drawing my hand back to my side.

Instead of dismissing me like the rest of them, he reach out and grabs my arm. In spite of myself, I'm forced to look up at him.

He examines me quickly. "You're not a senator," he observes, suspicion coloring his tone. "What are you doing here?"

"Just passing by the Capital, sir," I reply, trying to look as innocent as I can. "I mean no harm."

"Your timing is just suspect, else I would believe you." He stares straight into my eyes, and I fight the temptation to squirm out of his touch and away from his sight. Instead I play the part of the innocent bystander.

"I have a habit of being in the right place at the wrong time," I squeak out. Over the frantic beating of my heart, I can hardly hear my own words.

"What is a young girl doing out past dark?" he continues, his eyes narrowing. "Only the devil's business, I can assume. Do you think you can lure distinguished men into your trap of lust?"

Honestly, yes. Rich men are the lifeblood of that sinful business. But I am not a prostitute, and I'd rather be known as a petty thief than one.

"Sir, I'm not - "

"I'm going to call in the Coruscant authorities on you." He lets go of my arm to reach into his pocket - the same pocket I had swiped his wallet from. If I wasn't scared before, I definitely am now.

The moment he realizes that his wallet is missing is obvious. The moment he connects the theft with me -

I'm already running. Pushing through the crowd of senators and heading straight towards the lines of airspeeders. I can hear shouting behind me, and all I have time to think of is how to escape.

I scan my surroundings. The city is easy to get lost in, but all these people are just a few meters away. I can't outrun everyone. The Capital guards will come soon, and I definitely can't avoid them.

There are no shady alleys to disappear in, not this close to the lifecenter of the planet. The only option I can think of it straight in front of me.

I jump into the cockpit of one of the airspeeders, powering it on quickly. I've never flown an air vehicle before, but it can't be that hard, right?

Wrong. The thrusters lift, all too slowly, and the aircraft hovers for a few precious seconds. I look out over the side to see the Capital guards running my way, the senator pointing towards me.

Right before they reach me, the speeder takes off, heading alongside the basic flight pathway. I take this moment peaceful time to scan the buttons and levers and shifts on the control panel in front of me. I don't understand any of it.

Then I see the green button that says "Autopilot engaged", and I click it off. The guards are going to follow me up here, so I have to get off this path.

Unfortunately, I don't even consider what turning off the autopilot will do.

The speeder plunges downward, dropping towards the city skyscrapers quickly. I slam my foot into a pedal on the right side, and the speeder shoots forward, still angling downwards.

I place my hands on the steering mechanism and pull upwards. The vehicle lurches upwards to a vertical point, and my body, not strapped into the seat, flies out.

Hanging by only my arms from the vehicle, I get a new sense of the feeling of fear. I risk taking one hand off the steering bar to reach for the autopilot button, but it's just a sliver too far.

I get a new sense of the word "panic". My remaining arm is weakening quickly, so I make one last, all-out-energy attempt to pull myself forward and slam my fingertips into the autopilot button. The airspeeder levels itself out, and I hit the side of it hard with my dangling body. My fingers are starting to slip, so I pull myself in, making sure to buckle myself this time.

This time I also prepare myself so that when I hit the autopilot button off, the speeder doesn't go out of control. Minimal movements, I realize, are the key.

I slip the speeder under the flow of traffic and weave through a few buildings. Although it would make perfect sense for me to be terrified after my ordeal with flying, I find a peacefulness in it instead. The city is gorgeous at night from above, and there's something calming about the darkness contrasted with the flickering lights.

Then I hear the sirens in the distance, and I snap out of my trance. I'm not out of this frying pan yet.

I urge the speeder faster, angling down low. I don't know the city as well as I'd like - not that anyone can ever know the city well; it covers a whole planet - but maybe I can find some familiar signs closer to the ground.

A vehicle from above suddenly drops down and levels out next to mine. I look over in alarm, fearing the worst, but a boy about my age looks back at me instead of the guards I am expecting.

"I know how to escape them," he shouts across the wind. "Just get in my speeder."

"Are you crazy?" I reply, shaking my head. There is no way that I am unbuckling again. Last time I almost ended up as a human pancake on the streets of the Underworld.

He looks exasperated, and I turn back to the path in front of me. A second later I glance back his direction, and I'm startled - and horrified - to see he's perched on the edge of his speeder, completely unbuckled.

"What are you doing?" I scream, almost running straight into a stream of traffic.

"What does it look like?" he replies. "I'm jumping into your speeder!"

"No, you're not!" I pull the steering bar down, and my speeder slips underneath his. No sane person would ever make that jump.

A few seconds later there's a noise and the entire speeders shudders and sips downward, the engine sputtering. I frantically pull up on the steering bar, trying to level it out again.

"That wasn't very nice of you," a voice says.

I whip my head around to see the boy, now sitting in the passenger seat. He barely looks winded.

"What the hell?!" I cry, tearing my eyes away from where I'm going.

"Listen, I want to escape just as badly as you do." I look over, and he seems genuine enough. Well, he's already in my speeder now, so might as well make use of him. I'm not just going to toss him over.

"Do you know how to navigate through the city?" I ask, the sirens still just noticeable in the distance.

"No, but I know how to fly, unlike you."

"What do you mean? I'm flying it right now." I try to hold my voice steady, but I've never been a great face-to-face liar.

"Barely. Let me have the controls." He reaches over, and I slap his hand.

"No! I don't trust you."

"That hurts." He pouts a little, but I ignore it. I'm completely justified in my response, and I owe him absolutely nothing.

"Do you blame me?" I angle the steering bar to dive under a walkway. Despite being a safe distance from civilians, the ones on the walkway still jump to the sides.

Every moment I make is lurching, and the boy next to me turns a little green. "Not yet, but if you crash us I'll blame you."

"Do you think it's safe to land?" The sound of the sirens has completely faded out by now, and the city seems no more busy and crazy than normal.

He twists in the seat and scans the night skies. "I think we're clear." After a few more minutes, he notices my hesitation. "Why aren't you landing?"

It's a good question. There is no reason I shouldn't be angling back down to a walkway or the top of a building. But there is just something about seeing the sky up close, the stars washed out by the lights but still closer than ever before. There's a freedom in the feeling of the cool night air whipping through my hair and whispering across my skin. There's a calmness is the way that there's so much space here.

All my life I've lived in the suffocating lower levels of Coruscant, just high enough that I'm not in the Underworld, but still pretty low. This is real freedom here, in the sky, where the wind caresses me and sets me loose. No one can touch me here.

As long as I'm in the sky, I'm untouchable. Uncontrollable.

He wouldn't understand the sentiment, though, so I don't even try to explain. "I don't know how to land," I say instead.

"It's a good thing I jumped on ship," he mutters, then proceeds to walk me through the landing process. As the thrusters slowly lessen and gently drop off on top of a walkway, I finally turn to ask him his story.

"What are you running from?"

"My father. He's really controlling." The boy rolls his eyes. "He wants me to be just like him, but I have different dreams."

Life is ironic. He's running from his father while I would do anything to get my own father back. He has everything I want and yet he doesn't care for it.

"Well, good luck with that," I say, climbing out of the airspeeder. "But just a warning - don't take your father for granted. You will miss him one day."

He looks at me curiously. "What's your story?"

I simply shrug, slinging my satchel over my shoulder. "Not interesting."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm sure it is."

I ignore his comment and check to make sure my treasure is still secure in my bag. When I confirm it is, I start heading off on the walkway.

"Where are you going?" he asks, jogging to catch up.

"Home." He keeps walking alongside me, and I turn, more than exasperated. "You can't come with me, you know."

"Right." He turns, then changes his mind. "I'll just walk with you for a bit."

"I'd prefer if you didn't." He's starting to get on my nerves. What does he even want? We escaped the guards. He can go run off and chase his own dreams now. I have nothing to do with them.

"You're hiding something," he accuses lightly. "Otherwise you wouldn't be so eager to be rid of me."

At this, I stop. "I wouldn't?" I ask, my voice satirical. "Surely, I wouldn't want to go home after a long and tiring day. I definitely wouldn't want to leave behind a random guy who forced me to help him achieve his goals, and is now bugging me continually for absolutely no reason."

He opens his mouth, but I suddenly notice that something's off. I shove my hand across his mouth and scan the surroundings.

He pries my hand away. "What is is?" he whispers.

"Where are all the people?" I ask. He looks around and sees the same thing I do - this walkway is completely empty for hundreds of yards on either side. The areas below and above are at normal activity, but this one is oddly dead.

"What do you think it is?"

I don't have the chance to answer before Imperial Guards emerge from dark corners, weapons trained on us. I raise my hands slightly, palms facing outward. The guy next to me panics.

"I'm not guilty! I haven't done anything, I swear!" he exclaims. I roll my eyes; what a sell-out.

"Zarek!" A man's voice chimes out from behind the wall of guards, and the senator I had robbed pushes through the line. The voice is sharp and commanding and it rings out again. "Zarek Hal Ulev."

The boy, Zarek, hangs his head. "I'm sorry, Father." He doesn't look at me, and I'm glad for it; I probably wouldn't have been able to hold back my anger if he had.

This kid tries to run away, gets me involved, and gets both of us caught. And while he'll just have to go to reform school for a few months or something like that, my consequences will much more severe. What a selfish person.

"I cannot even imagine what you hoped to accomplish if you had escaped." The senator shakes his head. "Go get in the speeder. Now."

Zarek pauses, and now he glances back at me. His father follows his gaze, and when he sees me, he narrows his eyes.

"Allying with a common petty thief, I see," he says, spitting out the words as if they are acid. "It's absolutely refreshing to see what scum the pits of Coruscant can cough up into our laps."

What an arrogant prick. I almost feel bad for Zarek. Almost.

"And it's equally refreshing to see how luxuriously some people are riding out this economic depression, especially at the expense of the middle class." I beam him my biggest smile. He spits to the side.

"You'll be living it out in a prison cell, I presume." He stalks forward, unzips my satchel, and fishes out all the wallets I had stolen. "Actually, you may be riding out the rest of your life in one."

"At least I won't have to see the faces of those who claim to be advocating and working for the common people." The smile never leaves my face, and I can tell it annoys him to no end.

He turns without a word, dragging Zarek behind him. "Come now, son. We have face to repair."

"She isn't going to prison, is she? I forced her into this. It was all my idea!" I don't appreciate Zarek lying on my behalf. I can handle myself. Besides, it seems he's in enough trouble of his own.

"Don't lie. Scum like her deserve their lot in life." The duo disappears from sight, arguing the whole way.

I cross my arms, gazing at the Imperial Guards surrounding me silently. "So what now?" I demand. "Where's my one-way ticket to prison?"

They don't answer me. A few minutes later, an airspeeder lands where the senator's had once been. This is an Imperial speeder, and when the top slides open, a general in all white strides out. The guards part for him, and he approaches me.

"Artemis Nyra," he says, scanning me over. "I've heard much about you in the past few years."

"All bad?" I ask. "Because that's what I was going for."

He shakes his head. "You have spirit. That's the first thing we'll break out of you."

Break out of me? "Excuse me?"

"You are an extremely intelligent girl with much potential. No one, least of all the Empire, wants to see that wasted in a dank prison cell."

"I'm not going to prison?" My brain is slow to connect the dots. He patiently lays it out for me.

"The way I see it, you have two options: you can go to prison for the rest of your life, or you can join the Imperial Army."

The army? "What would I do in the army?"

He smiles tightly. "We're always in need of pilots. You showed good potential on your attempted escape today."

A pilot...All I can think about is how amazing that time in the air felt. Away from the muck, the poverty, the degradation of the bottom where I come from. The sky's the limit, they say, and that's perfectly fine, because the sky is endless.

I can go to prison or I can fly again. There isn't really a choice, is there?

"Where do I sign up?"

* * *

 ***** BBY is the measure of time in Star Wars. It stands for Before the Battle of Yavin (the battle where the Rebel Alliance destroyed the Death Star in A New Hope). It counts downwards to zero, which is when the battle took place, and starts going back up as ABY (After the Battle of Yavin). In this story, Artemis is born in 20 BBY, so you can calculate her age in the flashbacks by subtracting 20 from whatever year the flashbacks occur during


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All rights belong to Disney, George Lucas, and all the men and women that created the _Star Wars_ movies, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.

 **Rating:** T for violence, disturbing imagery, and dark themes

 **Chapter 2**

 **Outer Rim Territories, Unknown Sector, Scarif System, 1 BBY**

My footsteps echo loudly in the white corridors. My heart is racing wildly; so wildly, in fact, that I fear it may beat right of of my chest.

If they catch me - no, if _he_ catches me - I cannot even bear to think of what he might do. All the horrors I've seen over the past three years cannot even compare to what waits ahead of me if I fail.

Three years of searching, of planning, of plotting. Three years of serving "faithfully" to my Commanding Officer and to the Imperial Army. Three years could all be wasted, or I could be free.

I have a head start. I have enough supplies in the bag at my side to get me to a planet. I have the element of surprise. I am the best pilot in the galaxy. I have a plan.

And I have a will.

There's a noise ahead of me, and I dive sideways into a side passage, quickly scrambling to my feet once I'm out of sight and pressing my back against the cool metal wall.

There are voices. Yelling. Most of the voices are just random officers, and I sag in relief, but then I hear his voice. It's cold and stern and cuts right through me, sending chills down my spine and causing my muscles to tense up. Panic thuds it's way through me, and tears sting in my eyes.

Not him. Anyone but him.

"What are you doing?" he yells. "Search the whole base! Find her! She can't be too far!"

Uniform boots echo through the hallways as they run past. I'm afraid the sound of my beating heart will betray me, but they pass without a glance. I know they'll find me soon, though. I need to get out of here. Hiding won't help me.

I peer out to make sure none of them are in immediate sight, and then I slip out of the side passage and make my way towards the exit. We're on a base in Scariff, a jungle and water-filled planet in the Abrion Sector in the Outer Rim Territories. It's about as far from my old home in Coruscant as you can get, but I don't need to get that far.

I just need to get out of this Sector. Then it's free-flying around the galaxy until I can re-invent myself and escape the grasp of the Empire for good.

But first, this building. I just need to make it out of here.

The hall is empty, but it won't be like that forever. I use the opportunity I have to sprint down, my eyes scanning the area so no stormtrooper or fellow Imperial pilot can catch sight of me.

The advantage I have over them is that I've spent hours exploring this base, watching the guard changes, checking out the doorways and hallways. Entire nights have been spent using a flashlight to examine maps and blueprints of this base.

Two and a half years I've been searching for a way out.

You can learn a lot in two and a half years. It took me two years to figure out that there even was a chance of getting out. The last six months were spent running through every option and calculating the risk. Trying things. Asking questions (in a non-suspicious way, of course).

And now, finally, the moment. Although I'm terrified, there's a kind of peace to my soul. If I make it out, I'm free. And if they catch, they'll kill me, and I'll still be free.

 _Unless he makes an exception._ The thought chills my blood, and my legs pick up speed.

He won't make an exception for me. Not after this stunt. It doesn't matter that I'm the best pilot, or the quickest learner. It doesn't matter that I've never failed a mission. If they catch me trying to defect, it's instant death. The thought reassures me, though I don't slow down. I still can't risk it.

 _You know he can convince them,_ the voice taunts. _He'll do anything to keep you._

Deep down, I know it to be true. And therefore I know that escaping is my only option.

Already I've made a huge mistake. My original plan was to sneak out of the base to the hangar without notice and hopefully hijack a TIE fighter, which I'd fly through the open Shield Gate. By that time, it would be too late for the others to catch up to me as I shifted into light speed and headed to another sector of space.

But someone had noticed I was missing, and they must have pieced together that it means only one thing. So now the alarms are blazing and I'm struggling to make it to the hangar without being seen.

I hear the synchronized pattern of stormtrooper feet jogging my way, and I duck into a side passage right before they turn the corner. It's a place much more exposed than preferable, but I have no choice.

They pass, their heads focused forward. That's one downside to those big-ass helmets: tunnel freakin' vision. It's why they can't shoot worth beans. But that's a secret of the Empire I'm not supposed to divulge.

When my pulse calms down and the sound of their boots fade away, I press forward. I can still hear yelling echoing in the hallways, but I'm so close to the hangar that I can almost feel freedom.

Of course they'll have tons of guards there, though. They know me too well. So when I sneak in, I hide behind stacks of food and weapon supplies waiting to be sent to the various Imperial outposts.

He's here. Standing right in front of the TIE starships. Those are my expertise. He knows it. He knows me.

Standing there, in his stark white uniform, the colored pins a shot of red and yellow and green over his collarbone - it's all I can do to force myself to look away. The memories threaten to rush back, but I can't let them. I might change my mind about leaving.

Truth is, I'm scared to leave. Terrified. I remember all too well my life before being drafted. Hunger and poverty and despair were mainstays. Death and uncertainty was all around me. Claustrophobia from the crowded city threatened to suffocate me.

I learned true freedom here. Sure, there were tons of rules, but those rules allowed me to realize my full potential. They fed me, taught me, clothed me, sustained me. Those rules let me fly around the galaxy.

The only problem was him. Six months into my enlistment, he came. And he held the key to lock me up.

He's the reason I have to leave. The only reason.

But he's still dangling that key in front of me like a bone to a starving dog. And I'm tempted to let him bribe me into submission.

I've come too far to let that happen. I know he'll sit there until they find me, so I can't just wait this out. All my strategies - he knows them like he knows me. He taught me most of what I've learned, in fact. So I can't use any of them. He'll have a plan to counter those.

If I want to get out, I need to do something completely unexpected. Something he would never guess I would do.

The cargo crates in front of me catch my eye. Blasters. I raise a trembling hand to open the lid quietly and carefully. Rows of the black guns are laid to rest in the wooden box.

He knows that I would never use a blaster. He knows my past experiences with them. The way my heart races and panic takes over at the thought of touching one. How my hand is shaking so badly I can't see any definite lines.

So he won't expect me to touch one, let alone use one.

The thought sickens me, and I feel the need to throw up, but I won't. I can't. This is it. My moment. The cards have all played out, and this is the ace I'm left with. It's perfect.

Only I have to be willing to play it.

My heart is nearly thudding out of my chest as I lower my arm and wrap my fingers around the cool metal of one of the weapons. I hate the feeling of it. I hate the way it fits perfectly in my hand, as if it's meant to be there. As if I'm meant to hold it.

Swallowing back my aversion, I pick one up in each hand, checking to make sure the safety switch is off. I take a deep breath, pop up my head above the cargo crates to scan the hangar, then crouch back down and take another deep breath.

The TIE fighters are all tethered down, and they are the heavily guarded ones. There are shuttle starcraft to the right, and cargo starships to my left, both of those not so heavily guarded. I've flown the shuttles on a few occasions, but never a cargo ship.

Once again, he would never expect me to go after one of those. And, after all, how hard can it be to pilot? I'll just have to keep in mind the extra weight and the lack of arms onboard. It's a risky endeavour, but I am the best pilot the Empire has. No one can outmaneuver me once I get into deep space.

And they don't know where I'm going.

Honestly, even I don't know where I'm going. Just somewhere far, far away.

Everything I have planned hinges on their expectations of me, which is a huge risk in itself, but I have no other options that I can think of within a short timeframe. It's now or never. It's this crappy plan or I'm either executed or thrown back into the army.

Even if I'm not killed for my treason - and there's a very good chance of me not being destroyed - I couldn't survive knowing I didn't even try to make it out. The torture I'll have to survive every day is enough to bring me down on its own. I had only survived before knowing that I was working towards escaping. This truly is my last chance.

With my mind now completely made up and all doubts shoved aside, I take in a deep breath, hoist the blasters up, one in each hand, and stand, releasing the breath. At first, none of them notice. It's only when I step out and start firing randomly, my pointer fingers pumping the triggers, that all hell breaks loose.

The stormtroopers assume defensive positions, their blasters pivoting to try and find the source of the rogue shots. I can hear him yelling above the fray, but I ignore it all. My feet have never moved faster as I run, trying not to let the momentum from the firing of the guns throw off my balance.

My heart is racing in my chest and my hands are trembling and my vision blurred and bathed in red. Everything is happening all at once, all so fast. It's all I can do to keep my eyes focused on my destination: the cargo ships.

One of them is untethered and in the process of being loaded - or, at least, it was in the process of being loaded - so I head for that one, racing up the cargo bay ramp and hiding behind crates of various products. I'm just in time; even as I crouch, blaster shots splinter the wood where I had just been.

I use of series of jumps and quick, low, runs to make it up the ship and out of the cargo hold. As the door to the cockpit automatically slides forward for me, I slam my hand into the manual switch on the wall to close the cargo ramp.

The metal sheet shudders for a long moment, straining against the heavy, half-loaded cargo. It finally wins out, and the ramp begins to slowly close. The sound of gunfire and shouting is muted.

I slam myself into the pilot's chair, not bothering to buckle the harness as my fingers feel over the buttons and levers and switches. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before, but the basics of flying are similar for all starships. Once I locate the hyperdrive and the take-off/landing controls, I feel comfortable enough to start up the ship.

The engine stalls for a moment, and panic sets in, but I force myself to remain calm. A particularly hard hit rocks the entire ship, and I know the stormtroopers have broken out the heavy weapons, but, ironically, that hit was exactly what the engine needed to get it going. It kicks on and I feel the whole control panel thrumming under my fingertips.

I pull forward on the steering mechanism, and the cargo ship inches out on its wheels. Too slowly, I fear. Two more hard hits and we're done for.

I slam my foot on the accelerating pedal, and the ships lurches forward. Because I didn't buckle in right, my whole torso is thrown forward, over the control panel. My hands, gripped tightly around the steering, pulls the bars forward, which causes the ship to start going backwards. There's a large crashing sound as the back of the starship hits all the crates that had been waiting to get loaded in.

I take a split second to pull the harness over my shoulder and strap myself in before easing the cargo ship forward at a quick but manageable pace. All around, I can see the stormtroopers and my fellow pilots racing around, untethering the fighter ships and setting up a barrier at the door of the hanger. They're trying to trap me in.

Ignoring all the people in my path, I roll my foot down, causing the cargo ship to shoot forward again, this time not releasing until it barrels over the opposition. Within seconds I'm free of the building, and I fire up the thrusters, pulling the wheels up and into their separate holds. The ship takes to the air, and I speed it up as fast as the engine can take.

Right on time, the bomb I had placed in the main floor of the communications tower blows. The tower doesn't topple over, but it shakes, and the windows of that floor blow outwards. Hopefully the people there haven't had time to send a message up to the personal at the Shield Gate to stop me from going through.

The complex of bases and barracks on the tropical planet fall into the backdrop as I fly towards the Shield Gate and towards my freedom. The stars are so close now, I can almost reach out and touch them. If I get through the Shield Gate, I can outmaneuver the TIE fighters and the other pilots relatively easily. Just one last obstacle.

" _Cargo Ship 27A, please report in,"_ the radio crackles. " _You are not authorized to leave yet."_

"Communications tower was compromised, sir," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. "I have important equipment aboard that must get to the space carriers. The order is from General Albion himself."

" _Before the tower was targeted we received a message that the base was locked down. No one is to leave or enter."_

"General Albion _himself_ commanded my mission." I stress the name, although it tastes bitter in my mouth. "He will be very unhappy if this equipment doesn't get through. That's why he sent the best pilot in the Empire, Artemis Nyra, to fly it in personally. This is of the utmost importance."

There's a long silence. Although there is no clock aboard the starship I can almost hear a faint, nonexistent ticking noise. Am I going mad?

" _Alright,"_ the soldier finally acquiesces. " _Opening up the Shield Gate."_

Releasing a long, pent-up breath, I reply, "Thank you. The General will be pleased with your cooperation."

I speed through the gate as soon as the opening is big enough. It's just closing behind me again when the TIE fighters try to exit. I turn on the radio to hear their communications.

" _\- demand you let us through!"_ someone shouts.

" _I can't do that, private. The base is on lockdown."_

" _You let her through!"_

" _She's on a secret mission, sir_. _From the General himself."_

" _She lied to you."_ Instead of a young, frantic voice, this belongs to someone older. Someone more mature. Someone I know all too well. And that voice sends shivers down my spine. " _I know you're listening, Private Nyra."_

I can't respond. Fear trickles through my blood, although I'm already free. I just have to pull the hyperdrive and I can be far away -

But my hands refuse to move. For some reason, I can't find the will to keep going.

" _You don't really want to leave,"_ the voice continues. " _You had everything here. You were moving up the ranks so quickly. Why would you leave? So you got your moment of attention. Where are you going? You have no home except for here."_

There's a click, and I know he switched to a private channel. With shaking hands, I reach over and switch to it, too.

His voice greets me. " _I'll protect you if you stay. But if you leave this system, if you leave this planet, I can't protect you. You'll be on your own. Back to the days of stealing and scrounging and fighting for every crumb of bread and every scrap of money. What will you do? You can't hold a job. I can protect you here. Just come back."_

No. I can't go back. I'll find something to do, some way to make a living. Besides, I'd rather beg on the streets than go back to serving the Empire.

"I don't want your protection," I reply, my voice shaking. "I don't need it."

" _You know how much I care about you."_ His tone is softer now, and it hits me where it hurts. " _I want to help you. I want you to achieve the best you can. I know you love flying. I taught you how to fly well. I can teach you so much more if you just stay."_

No. I've made it this far. I'm not going back. His silver tongue can't talk me into anything more.

"I don't need to learn anything more." The words struggle out of my mouth because they are not true.

He knows it. He can see through my lies. He has always been able to.

" _You are the best pilot, but even the best can still learn. Within a few weeks you will be promoted! Imagine how many doors that will open for you. You can go anywhere you want, engage in more battles, have more control. I know you want independence more than anything."_

Independence. Freedom. The words sound so sweet in my mind, and my heart longs for them. Can he really give me all of that? I left because I had no freedom, but now he's offering it…

" _Imagine all the new kinds of ships you can use. Maybe you can even be a test pilot for brand new models. You can go as fast as you want, anywhere you want. Just stay."_

The idea is so tempting. But I raise my eyes from the radio to the stars, and my heart hardens. This is where I truly want to go. "Goodbye, Lehvan."

"Please don't - "

I switch off the radio and floor the accelerator, racing away from that horrid base and the horrid memories and the luring temptation of power. When I get far enough away, I switch on the hyperdrive and take off, going somewhere far, far away.

* * *

 **Core Worlds Region, Coruscant Subsector, Corusca Sector, Unknown System, 14 BBY**

" _But what happens if I do get caught, and I get thrown in prison?" I insist, tugging on Dad's hand._

" _Like I said before. You don't get caught. We Nyras are too good. We're smart enough to avoid that terrible situation." He ruffles the top of my hair, messing it all up. "Don't worry about it."_

" _But what if it happens? Hypothetically?" I follow him as he heads out on the skywalk. "What should I do?"_

 _He keeps walking for a few steps, then halts with a sigh. He kneels down, in the middle of the sidewalk, and grabs my shoulders lightly, looking straight into my eyes with a serious expression. "If you get caught, I will come for you. No matter what. As long as I breathe, I will come for you."_

" _So I should just wait?" I press, making sure to cover everything. I like being prepared, even if Daddy says I worry too much._

 _He nods. "Just sit tight. I'll get you."_

" _Are you gonna break into the prison?" My voice lights with enthusiasm. "Are you going to pilot a ship and take out all the stormtrooper guards, like the old Jedi did in the old days?"_

 _His eyes widen. "Don't talk about such things," he admonishes quietly but sternly. "If the Emperor hears - "_

 _He cuts off abruptly. I've rarely seen my father so strict. "They are just stories, though. Myths. The Jedi weren't good. They messed up everything and corrupted the galaxy."_

 _He stands and continues walking, his pace brisk. "They aren't myths, Art. They're legends."_

 _What does he mean by that? "What's the difference?"_

" _Myths aren't real. Legends are exaggerations of long-ago people and things."_

 _What? The Empire has always told us that Jedi don't exist. They were a radical religious-like group that tried to take over and control. For a while, they were successful. Then Senator Palpatine - or Lord Sidious, as he goes by now - rose from the masses and defied them, speaking for the people. The Jedi's lies betrayed them and they fell._

" _So the stories about Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are all true?" I can't help the awe in my voice. I'd long heard whispered stories or read extremely old and illegal news articles about their heroics. Of course, I'd thought it was just a myth or a good story._

 _My father nods. "Yes. At least they're based off truth."_

 _An excitement fills me, and a spark of interest lights up my mind. "So they really traveled all over the galaxy fighting injustice?"_

 _He nods again. Although his face is unchanging, my whole world has been turned upside down._

" _Tell me stories," I beg. "Tell me about them."_

" _I shouldn't. If the Empire overhears…" he trails off and stares ahead. A moment later he looks back at me, and his resolve crumbles. "Okay. I'll tell you a few things."_

 _I can't contain my enthusiasm. My hands wring as I listen eagerly._

" _They were Jedi, yes, but good ones. You must understand, in every empire - good or bad - there are good people. Anakin and Obi-Wan were good. They fought for justice and peace. Obi-Wan was amazing at diplomacy. He could talk himself out of almost any situation - and for the few he couldn't talk himself out of, he could fight. He was amazing with a lightsaber and with the Force."_

 _I close my eyes and draw up mental pictures in my mind. I have a good idea of him in my mind. "And what of Anakin?"_

 _My father lets out a low chuckle. "He was almost the exact opposite. Obi-Wan would be in the middle of a conversation, only a few seconds from getting everything cleared up, and then Anakin would burst in, his lightsaber fired up and burning through things. He was the younger one, and the two of them were brothers in all but blood. Where Obi-Wan was patient and calm, Anakin was rash and impulsive, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He saved his master's life multiple times."_

 _Again I make an imagine of this younger Jedi in my head. "I wish I had been alive in those days," I admit. "They sound like amazing people."_

 _Dad nods. "They were. And they were the best pilots in the galaxy, too. Ironic though it was, Obi-Wan hated flying, but he was the second best in the universe. Anakin, having grown up a podracer, was the best. The bad guys always knew that if the two of them came, it was a lost cause."_

 _As cool as that information is, I'm still stuck on one point. "Were?" I ask, my forehead creasing. "What happened to them?"_

 _My father's voice is muted when he replies. "Dead. Long dead."_

 _What? And just like that, my amazing mood crashes. "What happened to them?"_

 _He shakes his head. "I am not allowed to speak of it."_

 _My heart sinks into my chest, and a deep bitterness fills me. If only the Empire didn't filter everything…_

 _It was several years later that I learned about Order 66 and the destruction it wrought. Once powerful Jedi being eradicated in the span of only a few days...the remaining Jedi having to flee and hide for the rest of their lives, always in danger of being hunted…_

 _I had been devastated when I learned Obi-Wan had died on Utapau only a few years after the Clone Wars. But that was nothing compared to the anger I felt when I learned Anakin had bought into the lies of the Empire and had betrayed his friends, still dying in the end. He had lost everything, and for what? For nothing, it seems._

 _After a childhood of learning to obey the Empire without question, I began to have my first doubts. But after my fascination with the two Jedi faded, so did my enmity towards the Empire._

 _After all, Obi-Wan and Anakin are just legends, exaggerated and told in stories to help inspire hope. Hope, which is just an excuse for insane, rebellious actions._

 _And so I eventually forgot about the two past heroes who had, in the end, failed._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** All rights belong to Disney, George Lucas, and all the men and women that created the Star Wars movies, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.

 **Rating:** T for violence, disturbing imagery, and dark themes

 **Author's Note:** I'm going to try and update this more often so stay tuned

 **Chapter 3**

 **Outer Rim Territories, Unknown Sector, Akiva System, 1 BBY**

The cargo ship is difficult to land in the dense jungles that cover most of the planet of Akiva. After getting the heck out of Scariff, I had pulled out of hyperdrive and found the nearest, friendly planet. Turns out I had traveled across half the galaxy to almost the opposite side of the Outer Rim Territories (which is a huge expanse, for those not familiar in the layout of the universe).

After mowing down a football field's worth of trees, the ship finally stops moving. I unbuckle myself slowly and take a long moment to just breathe deeply, still shaken from that final conversation and from the adventures of the day.

I am free.

The words do not feel real. This must be all some crazy, wishful dream. There is no way that I am free from the Empire's control and grasp.

I'll never have to follow orders. I'll never have to stand at attention in front of my bunk during inspection. I'll never have to do competitive simulations to earn a new ranking or to get first-pick in missions.

I'll never see him again.

But I'm only free as long as I can keep hiding and make a living for myself. I have nothing right now except this half-wrecked but still salvageable cargo ship and the half-loaded items in the back, most of which are probably damaged due to not being strapped down.

It's actually not that bad of a start.

And, according to the geography scans, I'm about a mile's hike from the capital city, Myrra. Not a bad placement at all.

I decide to scout out the city before making an executive decision on the starship or the cargo. A thorough search of the cargo ship provides some emergency rations, some of which I put in a bag, and some old clothes. I think they were once a white cotton, but they've long since been stained beige. They don't smell too bad, and I can't be parading around in public in my Imperial Army uniform, so I change into them.

There are no shoes that fit me, so I keep on the black combat boots from my uniform. Other than being perfectly shined, they aren't too conspicuous. Not any more than the stolen cargo and starship, at least.

Turns out my concern for their condition is unnecessary, as the short but still difficult trek renders them dirty and mud-splattered. Even as the jungle sludge turns into hard-packed dirt and then eventually brick roads, wisps of my dirty blonde hair poof up in the humidity and dangle around my eyes and get caught in my mouth.

When I wipe them away and tuck them behind my ears, traces of mud smear on my skin. Whatever. That's the jungle for you.

My ankles are happy when the road is cleared out, even if it isn't paved yet. Small abodes start appearing in sight, housing the many native Uugteens and the immigrant humans, Koorivar, Sullustans, Mon Calamari, Besaliks, Abednedos, and Ithorians.

The mile takes me to the edge of the city, where it's mostly homes with a few scattered service faculties and stores. The various sentients conduct business, children of all types playing at the parks while their parents walk around and gossip.

Cerulean skycatchers flutter around the treetops and through the air, their bold blue feathers sticking out among the green and brown. They're gorgeous birds, and I pause and watch them for a few minutes. I can't help but be captivated by their freedom and beauty. They are everything.

The pilot within me scans their wingspans and makes calculations and theories about how fast they can go, how high, how much weight they can carry - birds truly are the inspiration for every type of aircraft. Even though we've long since ditched the large wings of old planes, the hover technology we have now would be nothing without the aircraft that makes it such a big demand.

As I get deeper into the city, the Fenglas - Akiva's equivalent of squirrels - disappear and give way to the bigger animals, the ones that are attached to carts to carry people and products, or the ones that carry water buckets hanging off their backs and yokes. They resemble an ox, but I do not know their name on this planet.

I hail on of the taxi ones, and the Uugteen driver steers his animals towards me. He scans me up and down before asking, "What do you got?"

"Do you accept Imperial Credits?" I ask, digging into my bag.

He thinks for a long moment. "Depends on how much you got and where you want to go."

I silently bless the universe for dropping me somewhere where Imperial Credits are a valid currency. You never know what people will take in the Outer Rim Territories. "I just need to get to the main shopping center in Myrra."

He chews on a toothpick for a long time. "'Kay. We're not far. How much you payin'?"

"Five credits." My voice is firm.

He's a bargainer, though. "Ten. I'll get you there extra fast. And I'll throw in a tour of the city, too."

Ten credits is more than I can spare for the moment. I still need to be able to get a ride back to the crashed cargo ship so I can pawn off what's left of that mess, and I still need enough to buy new clothes. "Seven credits, muted tour of the city. And if you extend your services to me for the rest of day, I'll thrown in another twenty later."

His eyes widen at the prospect. "Deal." He motions towards the seat behind his. After I step up into the cart and sit down, he urges his beast forward at a trotting pace.

"This route is taking us straight through the heart of Myrra," he explains, talking around the wood pick in his mouth. "Up here is the capital building, where the Satrapy of Myrra resides."

I assume the Satrapy of Myrra is the government - under the Empire, of course. "And who is the current leader?"

"We are led by Satrap Kade Hingo." There's a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"You are not pleased with his leadership abilities?"

"None are pleased with how our planet is run." He lowers his voice. "This city is full of rebels."

As a pilot of the Empire, I had taken down many a rebel starship. It always left a bitter tang in my soul. Although I do not hate the Empire, I am no friend of it, and I feel for those who rise up in vain to try and restore order. They are lost citizens, people who dream about the "glory" days of the Jedi and the Republic. They think they have hope, but they have nothing.

They have only seen a fraction of the true power of the Empire. I know what is being built. I know the weapons and the technology the Empire has. The rebels have no chance. They will all perish.

The only way to end the Empire is the same way the Republic was brought down - through politics. And even that is a long shot, although representatives from various planets have worked hard for some liberties. One senator, from Alderaan, has always stuck out to me. Leia Organa. I've only seen a few videos of her speeches, but she can hold a room like no one else can. Her words are even more potent than that of Senator Palpatine.

"What are all those signs for?" I ask, pointing to one of the many signs I had been seeing since entering the city. They are in the native language, so I cannot understand it.

"The catacombs," the driver replies.

"As in burial places?" I can't help but wrinkle but nose, thinking instinctively of millions of sentient remains rotting in the dark tunnels underneath the jungle.

He inclines his head. "Some, yes. When we Uugteens first came to this planet, we were a primitive species, barely having had invented the wheel, let alone many of the technological marvels seen throughout the galaxy now. As you can clearly see, we have extremely pale skin, and thus the sun causes great hurt. We build the catacombs to escape this torment."

"Do you still live there?" I can't imagine living in an underground maze. The claustrophobia, the darkness, the dry, stale air - not to mention the remains buried there, too.

"Very few. When we were first here, there was another native species: the Ahia-Ko. Akiva was once a desolate planet, and the Ahia-Ko planted and irrigated the surface, creating first the jungles, and then great temples in the jungle. Once the trees grew up, we could venture on the surface without fearing for our skin, for the great canopies blocked the most harmful rays."

"What happened to the Ahia-Ko?"

He shakes his pale head mournfully. "We do not know. Sometime after the jungles and temples were created and before we returned to the surface, they disappeared. Some say they moved to a different planet. Others say they died off and were swallowed by the jungle."

They aren't the first species to mysteriously disappear, and they probably won't be the last. "So what is in the catacombs if your people no longer reside there?"

He shrugs. "I've never been down there. The few who remain are very territorial. Almost no one who ventures down returns."

That sounds ominous. Maybe the catacombs hold more bodies than he can imagine. "Surely there must be rumors."

"Of course. Some say an old old Jedi training camp. Others say Hutt breeding grounds." I shiver at the thought of the Hutts. He doesn't notice. "The more outlandish theory is that a Sith trap resides there, although I highly doubt it. After all, Akiva is far from the more civilized planets. No one comes here that the Sith would want to destroy."

"A Jedi training camp?" I think back to the old stories my father used to tell me about the Jedi.

He nods. "It's a maze down there. Perfect for teaching someone how to be aware using on the Force. But it would be long abandoned by now."

Abandoned because the Jedi are long dead. A remnant of the past. Legends that inspire hope to some, fear in others, bitterness in few. Just a story to most.

"We do know that there is an old Droid Foundry down there, dating back to the Clone Wars."

All I really know about the Clone Wars is what my father told me - and most of that was just stories about the heroics of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. "Droids still were in production during the Clone Wars? I thought the clones replaced them."

He turns back to give me a strange look. "Where'd you learn your history? During the Clone Wars, the clones were on the side of the Republic and the Jedi. The droids were on the opposite side."

This doesn't match up with what I've been told at all. "But after the Clone War, the clones were the ones to kill the Jedi. Order 66, right?"

He nods and chews on his toothpick. "Yup."

"But why would the clones kill them if they were on the same side?"

"They were ordered to."

"But they fought with the Jedi for years! How could they just throw that all away?"

He looks away, his eyes seeming to look into the past. "The clones did not have minds or a conscious. They are simply clones, and they must follow orders. No matter what. The same individuals in charge of the Empire now gave the order for them to turn on the Jedi."

If clones have no minds of their own, how could they beat the powerful Jedi? Even if they are the "perfect" soldiers, and even if they have the advantage of numbers, it still doesn't add up. "Couldn't the Jedi defend themselves?"

"The Jedi never saw it coming," he says quietly. "One minute they were walking next to their troops, the next they were on the ground, dead. The only ones that survived were either far away from their command or they somehow got lucky and saw the attack coming."

Shot down in cold blood. It sends a chill down my spine. For three years I had served the Empire, and not once had I thought them capable of such a horrible thing. Yes, unspeakable things happened to me while in their service, but nothing in _cold blood_.

Maybe everything was a huge lie.

"Here we are," he says suddenly, pulling on the yoke to stop the beast. The cart pitches forward then rolls backward before abruptly stopping.

I notice we're in a busy intersection. Sentients of all kinds are wandering around, and lines of shops are built on either side of the brick-paved streets. In the large center square are posts where beasts are tied up. In the middle of the posts is a fountain. Not a nice, decorative one, but a practical one filled with murky water that other beasts are drinking out of.

"We'll be waiting right here for ya, miss." The Uugteen pauses for a moment then, pulling the stick out of the side of his mouth. "What's your name, anyway?"

I think hard for a long moment, knowing that my real name is too dangerous to use. Instead I use one that is familiar, yet not one the Empire would think to connect to me. "Nadya Maaza."

He bows slightly, as is the custom for his race. "I am called Xio."

I return the bow. "Thank you for your service. I shall try to be quick so I do not waste your time."

"I am but a humble servant," Xio replies, bowing once more before turning to lead his beast to the water.

I head for the first non-shady clothing shop I can see. Luckily, since the Uugteen are very similar physically to humans, it's not too hard to find something that fits well. I settle on a dark, olive green cargo jacket, a charcoal gray tank top, and black skinny pants. My boots, though dirty, are still in great condition, so I don't bother to get a new pair.

After paying and changing - leaving the jacket tied around my waist, since Akiva is extremely hot - I head back towards the place I left Xio and his beast. True to his word, he is waiting.

"That was quick," he says when I step into earshot.

"I don't mean to stay here long," I reply, raising my hand over my forehead to shield the sun while I scan the area. "Do you know where one might sell large quantities of items?"

He looks at me suspiciously. "What kind of items?"

I shrug, keeping my disposition neutral. "Let's just say I don't want to be asked any questions by the sellers."

Xio sticks his toothpick back in his mouth. "You want to know where the black markets are."

After a moment's hesitation, I nod.

He doesn't object. Instead he just scans me over. "I didn't peg you as the illegal type," he finally says.

"Sometimes you have to do unpleasant things to survive," I reply, shoving my hands in my front pockets. "Do you still want to help me? I can just give you the seven credits I promised and part ways."

Although he doesn't seem to particularly enjoy the idea of sketchy dealings, I can tell he wants the additional twenty credits. And I don't blame him. Money is tight in the galaxy these days, especially in the Outer Rim Territories. "No. I'm still your man. Just be careful. Those people are just as dangerous as the products they deal."

I sit back in the cart and he steers his beast towards a darker, quieter side of the city. A particularly shady alley sticks out ahead, and he stops his beast. "This is as far as I'm going. I'll wait out here for you."

I enter the alley alone, my eyes blinking quickly to adjust to the sudden lack of light. Movements in the shadows show that I am not alone.

Something presses up against me, and I barely keep myself from stepping away. My heart races; maybe I'm in over my head. Maybe if I go back to Scariff right now they'll accept me.

"What are you selling, little girl?" a raspy voice says. Something scaly touches my cheek, and I can't help but flinch.

"I have blasters. Fresh off the factory belt. And dehydrated foodstuffs. Stormtrooper armor and other various tools from the Empire." My words are shaky and betray my fear. Luckily the buyer doesn't seem to notice - or care.

"Where in the galaxy did you get a catch like that?" the voice asks, betraying no emotion.

"It's not important," I reply defiantly, my confidence starting to return as my eyes adjust to the darkness. I take in a deep breath. "It's in a damaged but functioning cargo ship just outside the city. You can have the starship, too."

"You have quite a catch." The pressure disappears and there are footsteps behind me. I do not dare to turn around and look to see what disgusting creature I am making a deal with. When it speaks again, the voice is distant. "I will sent my aid with you to inventory the items. He will make a deal on my behalf if they are desirable."

There is another set of footsteps, these ones different. Now I turn around to see the assistant, an Ithorian male. He's a nasty little creature, with a hammer shaped head with two eyes, two mouths, and an oddly curved neck. His leathery skin is a dark green.

He speaks with an Ithorese accent. "The land speeders are over here. We will take these to your ship."

He leads me into a sketchy building with cloth barriers instead of doors. Inside, a row of various kinds of land speeders are tied up. I notice all the serial numbers on them are scratched off, along with the original paint job. It doesn't take a genius to see that they're all stolen.

"You can take one and I can take one, that'll be the fastest way to go," he mumbles, so quiet I can barely hear. "I'm Dho, by the way. I don't wanna know your name. If I don't know anything, I can't be held accountable for anything when they come and catch me."

He must've been hit hard on the head at some point in his life. I kinda feel bad for the poor creature. He just keep mumbling as we speed out of the building and head to the city outskirts, taking a different route back to my ship than I had come.

His two mouths never stop moving, although I can't hear a word he says. I'm not sure it's worth listening to, anyway. He seems really off his rocker.

When we reach the damaged cargo ship and slow out speeders down, his words just barely reach my ears. "Not too shabby, not too shabby at all. Boss is gonna like this one. Always has a use for these. Especially if it works. If it doesn't we'll use it for spare parts. Spare parts are always good."

Dho is only making half-sense, but I can understand that he is at least pleased with the ship. That's a start. And the ship is the most damaged out of everything I'm about to show him.

I open the cargo ramp and as it slowly opens, revealing the half dozen crates of hastily loaded cargo, his eyes grow wide. "Very good condition, lots of potential. Boss'll be real happy with this load, pay you up all nice."

That sounds promising. I pick step up the ramp and pick up a discarded crowbar, using it to pry up the lid on the nearest box. The top flips off to show a stack of blasters neatly laid in styrofoam. "There should be about two dozen or so in here," I say.

Dho's eyes go wide again. "Yes, yes, this is very good. Blasters are hard to get these days, this is a good catch, yes, very good."

Together we go through the rest of the cache, Dho making pleased mutterings the entire time. When we're finished, he nods enthusiastically. "This is a good supply. Good sale. Don't know where you got it or how, don't want to know, but this is good."

"So how much are you offering for it?" I ask.

"What currency would you like it in? I have some - "

"Imperial Credits are fine," I interrupt.

"Will ten thousand be enough? I think that's fair…" He keeps going, but I tune him out.

Ten thousand Imperial Credits. That's a great sum. Enough for me to buy a decent starship and have some left over, at the least.

"Deal." I reluctantly shake his grimy hand.

We take the speeders back to the alley. Dho gives me a large bag with the credits in it and I take my leave, trusting him and his boss to take care of their things.

I return to Xio and pay him his additional twenty credits. "You're finished with my services?" he asks, seemingly surprised.

"Not yet. I just wanted to make sure you got your payment."

He raises the part of his forehead where eyebrows would be on a normal human. The Uugteens are so similar to humans, yet so different. Paler than the palest human, no hair, and no nose - close, yet not quite. "You trust me?"

I shrug. "You did lead me to the black markets and wait without question. I think you've earned something."

The real reason is not that I particularly trust him - although I bet he'll stick around anyway, in case I tip him extra - but because I really don't care. Now that I have plenty of money, I just need to get a starship and I'm out of here.

"I've found customers pay more if I don't ask." He slaps the leather reins against the beast's hide. The beast starts lumbering forward. "Where do you want to go next?"

"Where can someone buy a decent starship around here?" I ask. He doesn't answer; instead he simply nods.

Ten minutes later, we pull up to a large junkyard entrance. I'm about to protest when he explains. "You can't buy any new ships here, but I know the guy who owns this place, and he takes parts of broken ships and patches 'em together. Makes them better than the original ones. Best part it, they're completely unique."

Xio seems confident, so I play along. "Alright. I assume your friend is in there?" I point to the shabby hut not too far from the first pile of junk.

He nods. "His name is Geran. Just be...careful. He can be sensitive at times."

I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but I nod. "Thanks." I step out, then turn back to him. "I think I'm good now. Thank you for your service."

He nods and spurs his beast and the cart back towards the city.

I'm not sure what I'm expecting, but it sure isn't what I see when the door to the shack opens. A gargantuan creature stands in front of me. From the bottom up, there are two, elephant-like trunk legs connected to equally meaty thighs, a pot belly that is not covered by any clothes, four tree-branch arms, and no neck that supports a large, chubby face with two eyes, a forehead crest, and fat purple lips. The entire body is a purplish-brown and covered in a half-skin, half-scales combination.

A besalisk. I've heard of them before, but I've never actually met one. "H-hello," I stutter, a little intimidated.

He attempts to step forward, only to slam his head against the top of the door. He curses loudly and reaches up one of his four arms to rub at his forehead. For my part, I take a large step backward. "I'm sorry," I say quickly.

"Not your fault," he grumbles in response, his voice at least an octave lower than mine. "I'm just so damn tall." He straightens up and scans me over. "What are you here for?"

"I was recommended by a friend of yours. Xio." I wait for an acknowledgment of recognition, but his expression doesn't change. I forge on. "I'm looking for a starship."

He crosses two of his arms. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"What do you mean?"

He starts walking around the shack, and I follow at a distance. He weaves between the piles junk, and in the middle of the junkyard, there are a half-dozen starships parked nicely. True to what Xio had said, they are all mismatched from parts of various starships.

"Each of these is unique. I made them myself from spare parts." Geran motions towards the first one. "That one can go super fast, but it can only carry two crew and a couple of repair droids. The one next to it isn't as fast, but has room for a crew of five and as many droids as you want. It also has bunk rooms and a shower."

He talks me through the line, explaining the different merits of the different crafts. "The advantage of getting them like this instead of buying a normal starship is that your enemies have no idea what they're up against. They don't know your capabilities, and therefore they don't know your weaknesses."

"Do you sell to a lot of criminals?" I ask, slightly alarmed at his candor.

He shrugs with his top two arms. "I don't ask, I don't tell."

A good policy. "Alright. How much are you asking for that one?" I point to the fourth ship he had shown me, the one with a small bunk area, bathroom, and room for a crew of three. It's the second fastest of the six starships, and it's equipped with some decent weapons. Everything I need in order to get away from the Empire in case they come after me.

"Ten thousand Imperial credits," he says.

I purse my lips. I'm just short of that sum, but even if I had it, I wouldn't want to pay quite that much. "I can't spend over five thousand," I reply, crossing my arms in a stubborn position.

His eyes widen. "That's a joke," he says. "I would never sell that low. Eight thousand is the lowest I'll go."

I raise an eyebrow. "Seven thousand or you're out of a customer."

He sighs. "Fine. Seven thousand." He grumbles as I pay up. "Never worked for so little."

I'm elated as I climb into the starship and scan the inside of it, running my hand along every wall and seat. Now I'm truly free. I can travel anywhere in the galaxy. Soon, there won't be a trace of Artemis Nyra left for the Empire to find.

I start the starship, engaging the hover technology, and then I pull the thrusters forward. I'm out of here. The galaxy is my limit.

" _Have we always lived in Coruscant?" I ask my dad. We're sitting in an outdoor cafe, high above the toxics of the Underworld and the main level of the city. Up this high, even the sounds of the city barely reach us._

" _We have, yes," he replies. "Thanks to your grandmother."_

" _My grandma? I never knew I had one." Dad never talks about our relatives. I just assumed I never had any._

 _He nods solemnly. "According to the official records, she doesn't exist. But she worked her way from one of the poor Outer Rim planets all the way to this one. A huge feat."_

" _The Outer Rim planets aren't full of toxins, though," I protest, wrinkling my nose. "And we're poor here, anyways. Why would she want to leave?"_

" _This city may have its faults, but there are still way more opportunities than in some of those poor planets. At least we don't have to fight to survive every single day." He reaches over and takes one of my hands. "And I'm incredibly thankful for her for that every day."_

 _After a moment of silent thought, I agree. "Me too. If your mother - "_

 _He shakes his head, cutting me off. "Not my mother. Your mom's mom."_

 _Mom? The word takes me by surprise. He never talks about Mom. And I never ask. But I do have one question._

" _If she wasn't on any official records, do you even know what her name was?"_

 _He nods. "Of course I know. Her name was Nadya Maaza."_


End file.
